The Last Syllables

One-two, one-two.
Heartbeat. Don't stop.
You're the last syllable of all this time;
the only friend and only sign
that I'm still alive and beating,
trying to cheat my fate.

One-two, one-two.
Count the number of choices I had.
Count the heart that bled for me
when I had stabb'd it with honesty.
One-one-young-young.

And beat your last, oh bravest heart;
only I will ever know all of what you are.
All of what you are.

Continue on, no death yet,
through crazy deeds and philosophies,
sex and sermons, God and demons.
And every time you see one,
think of me as the only one-two-one.
Think of me (one-two).

And love your last, impassioned heart;
only I will ever feel this bleeding love unmarred.
Because I will be the scar;
I will mar this heart.

One-two, one-two.
Heartbeat. Your chest.
The strength I never felt but always knew
bewitches you and all your futures.
And you will be wild, and I, a child;
you will flow out, come far out,
and I will live in denial.
But through your beats, you'll feel my heart,
and I in yours to dwell in hell:
one-two, one-two, farewell.

So beat once more, oh lovely heart;
only I will ever see all these things you are.
And long your last, o'er distance far;
only I will ever be all of what you are.
And die this time, oh foolish heart;
only I will ever mar
this beauty with a scar.

~05/2004

My Mona Lisa

I don't know why you smile,
my Mona Lisa,
but I am not beyond your mysteries.
"You can't understand a woman."
I've heard that one before.
But your secret is no different
than the secret of time, or space;
or the secret of life,
which you make with me
when we two are one.

Your secret is not in your face;
not from your deep, dark eyes,
as unfathomable as any stretch of ocean;
not from your whisper-filled lips
that may contain many secrets
(all of which I hope to hear);
and, no, not even from your nose,
though how it succeeds in fitting you so perfectly
may mystify me,
from time to time.

Many spy on the horizon,
as they do when looking for other answers:
they find your secret of life;
they find your secret of time
(but not how you make so much time
for one as me);
they find your secret of space
(but not how you make so much space
for love of me).
But to discover why you smile,
I will not search in typically masculine ways,
for then I would fail.

I search your heart, my darling,
and find only that to a gentle touch
and to a warm tear
it is always open.
I search your head, my love,
and find such a puzzle inside
that no secret could be found,
even by you;
and it is obvious by the tilt of your lips
and by the glint of your airbrush eyes
that you know very well why you smile.

And so, finally, I search your soul;
but only my soul can interpret yours,
and they speak in languages
far beyond our comprehension.
So let us set our souls free
to wander, and wind their way,
and intertwine
in the far reaches of the galaxy we share.

And still you smile,
my Mona Lisa,
and still I am mystified.
And so, I paint you.
I draw you out onto paper:
every line, every curve, every shade.
I draw not a photograph,
for photographs have tried to capture
the secret of your smile;
tried, and failed.
No, I draw a portrait of you
that is not perfect and not flawless,
just true.

And so I stare at you
to find your features,
to be the Columbus of this voyage;
the first man to understand the secret
of a woman's smile.
Maybe you smile for me -
or maybe I am vain - you smile not for me,
but for life, or for children,
or to look pretty, or for the poor,
or for money, or for the pink windowshades
in the background of the room.

I am at the point of resigning myself
to be yet another puzzled prince
when I see you,
your lips and your eyes and your nose and all.
Your secret, as grand
yet as simple as the secret of life -

you smile because I wonder why you smile.
Your secret is nothing more
than the secret of knowing
that you do not have a secret.
At least, no more than I do,
and we will find each others' secrets
in time.

My Mona Lisa,
I know why you smile,
and I smile too.

~04/2005

Bittersweet

The bitterness of your distance
fades a little every day;
each airplane that floats by
takes me miles and miles away.
This way, I'd go, I'd run, I'd hide,
but your eyes see past all the pride.
Though I will be invisible to you,
through and through I know I'll wait,
and savor each little taste you give me...
every one is bittersweet.
It's you and me,
but it's bittersweet.

I dreamt I ran a marathon,
but it was all the wrong direction.
I dreamt I won the lottery,
but my wealth crushed the economy.
I woke and walked along the beach,
rainy sand on foreign feet;
looked and saw, to my surprise,
two sets of footprints on the horizon.

The bite and sting of pesky thoughts;
where's the peace of eastern men?
I'm not religious, but if I believed,
the laws of nature would have to bend.
And I drive the same monotonous route
day by day, and lacking you.
Through and through you know I'll take
and savor each little taste you give me...
every one is bittersweet.
It's still you and me,
but it's bittersweet.

I dreamt I climbed the tallest mountain,
but still couldn't reach to touch the sun.
I dreamt I swam across the ocean,
and in the middle you were floating
like an island, a lonely planet...
sleepless nights with airplanes landing.
I couldn't hear above their roar;
I yelled for you 'til my throat was hoarse.

* * * * *

And so I stir, spoon in coffee,
wondering when to lift and taste.
Bittersweet we may always be,
and if I find that that's the case,
I may nod and go, or hide, or stay,
but you'll have to fix things any way.
This is what's inside of you,
this battle waged inside of you,
and each taste you choose to give me,
every one is bittersweet.
It is you and me, yes,
but it's bittersweet.

I dreamt I played the perfect song,
and forgot it when I paused too long.
I dreamt I drove, or maybe flew,
but crashed along my way to you.
I woke and walked along the street,
ghetto trash on foreign feet;
looked and saw no signs of life,
all alone in the night.
So I kept on walking down the street,
singing, "you and me, we're bittersweet."
"You and me...it's bittersweet."

~06/2006